Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1887-09-30
The Old Mares Last Race.

Every summer of my girlhood was
spent on Grandpa Adams farm
Perhaps Heaven will be more beauti-
ful, and perhaps the eternities will
yield fairer host of delights, but L
doubt it. The old farm house was
set behind a row of poplar trees, and
even yet ! can see, when ! close my
eyes. the sway Of their stately tops
when the harper of the winds called
time for sudden storms, or when, on
breezy summer afternoons, the
changeful silver of their reversed
!eayes cleaned like the crest OF &
breaking billow Leading up to the
house was garden bordered with
pink, bachelor buttons and ribbon
grasses. The lower windows were
hidGon behind syPinga bushes and
plumy liIacs, and the big time-wo
nagstone which formed the doorstep
was bordered with scraggy tufts of
chickweed. broadleafed plantain and
golden plume of that stealthy marau-
der, the mustard eed;--an unCaDny
crew which grandma's patient weed
ing could never quite eliminate.
Around at the side door was a low
bench where the milk-pBns were al
ways summing, and an old well-sWeep
balanced lightly among the apple
trees. A few hollyhocks formed q
a pretty barrier to a spot which was
set apart for bee hives, and long
line of currant bushes was the chosen
ambush for troops Of amazed hens
and an astonished rooster whose
chuckle of dismay proclaimed tho ap,
proach OF every wandering footstep
There were three girls Of us, who
reigned supreme in this lovely spot
cousins, all Of us, and each sent
down from Boston by our respective
parents To be got of the way while
the elder sisters took the triumphal
round of summer watering places.
Our turn came later, but nothing that
it ever brought equaled the rapture of
those perfect summers oD the farm.
Our privileges were absolute, and
only at the stable door did dear old
grandpa draw the line,
"You may take tho old mare, girls,
just whenever you like, harness up
and drive to Jericho if you want, but
! can't have you breaking your nccks
with the colts"
"But, grandpa, she can't go fast,
and she trots like chicken on q
stove-lid, "said Kitty.
"She's homely as sin !" remonstra-
ted Sue.
And she hreatheG 80 hard I'm al
ways afraid she's going to lie down
and die ~ murmured /.
But our remonstrances aYailed us
nothing it was the old mare or stay
at home 50 finally we grew reconci!-
TO her, and her peculiarlties gave US
little concern.
One lovely August morning we
harnessed her up for drive over to
the village to get the tri-weekly mail.
The sun promised sutry day, but
the morning hoars were frosh with
undried dew, and the breeze Of Of the
night, like n belated bird, was loiter-
ing and rustlng in the tall poplar
brat ches.
Better drive her along middling
smart" said grandma; "the wind'll
die down by ten O'clock, and ! reck-
on it'll he a powerful hot day"
Grandma said Sue, "if you tied
kingdom come to her tail the old
mare couldn't make over mile In
forty minutea.n
II don't know about that" said
gradpa as he unfastened the gate for
us to ride down the lane; "she .sed
to be considerable OF traveller in her
day, and once in while she lets out
even now and shows that the old
20 amt quite dead yet"
Don't you think we had better
take one pi the colts. dear 2" said !
swcetly perhaps she may "let out"
suddenly and run away with pa."
go long with you, sauce boy"
said the indexible old gentleman: 81
wouldn't give five coppers for your
necks if you were behind one of them
lirisky colts"
So away we drove out of the
blooming lane and into the dusty,
level highway, which marked The
good two mile distance to the VII